Sugar Crumbs
by Hepzibah Smith
Summary: Who knew such foods could make such tasty treats? Loving, fluffy, and dark tales beginning at Rhett and Scarlett's wedding night and tumbling after. Food fetish. R/S, A/M
1. Apples

A/N: Probably first and last time you will hear from me. This is my very first GWTW fic. Not an excuse for bad writing, just a warning. It's currently PWP, but that might change in the near future. In all honesty, I just like to see Rhett and Scarlett battle it out for dominance. I'm strange like that. Please enjoy and state if you do!

**Sugar Crumbs**

"God's seed, Rhett Butler! Never! Not ever, do you hear me!?" she shrieked, snatching up the coverlets and pulling them tightly about her as if to shield her from the offensive jar Rhett innocently held in his hand.

Throwing back his head, Rhett let out a howl of laughter. "My, my, Scarlett. I never knew you to be such a prude. I see now why you left all the marital pleasures to your former husbands."

As he expected, her green eyes narrowed into slits. Her nose scrunched into a childish pout and he took the chance to approach the bed and pull the thick burgundy sheets away from his new bride. "That look isn't very attractive, my dear."

She scoffed when he dipped one knee onto the space beside her, clasping a hand to her breast and shivering when his leg lightly brushed her knuckles. "Take that smug look off your face. I have no idea what you plan to do with that, but-"

"What? This harmless jar of apples?" he said, inspecting the honey-colored contents intently, "Why I'm wounded, my pet. Mama sent these all the way from Charleston. Didn't you know they were my favorite as a child? Tsk. Tsk, Scarlett. I thought you knew me better than that!"

Taking a scurried look at the unclothed length of her husband, Scarlett grinned foolishly. "Why, I suppose I should, Rhett. But you must know I _hate_ apples."

She felt her entire body smolder under his gaze. "You won't after I'm through with you."

Hovering over her with arms as long and winding as a spider's, he carefully set the jar on the desk table on her side of the bed and immediately swooped down upon her to claim her lips with his. A course of desire and disappointment ran through her body. Rhett's kisses were always so intoxicating, so renewing and freshening. Yet the wide expanse of his body seemed to belie the slow, gentle movements of his lips upon her trembling ones. He was unlike any man she had ever kissed before - commanding, consuming, convincing…why it was almost as if he loved her! Scarlett laughed gently at her thoughts as Rhett moved to attack her neck with the same light tenderness. Let Rhett Butler love her all he liked. Love never got anyone anywhere in life as far as she was concerned. She had loved Ashley for what seemed like a lifetime and where did it get her? Thrown into every arms but his. No, Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler wouldn't think of love tonight. Tonight was her night of abandon.

But if only it hadn't had to be with Rhett! He was attractive and all, but his problem was that he knew it. He knew his body was a gift from the gods and he didn't scurry in flaunting it in her face. He knew that his eyes could sweep through and across in but a moment and know all there was ever to know about her. He knew his laugh, his grin, his frown, his sneer all made her react to him like no other.

He knew she didn't love him and never would. She knew that he didn't care.

When she felt two strong hands cup her breasts, the air caught in her throat. She could feel the warmth of his fingers as they circled about her skin and shivered at the contrasting iciness that scrapped her flesh in the form of his wedding ring. All her thoughts went to that ring, the very first to grace Rhett's finger, and she marveled as it twisted round and round on him as he continued to tease her. His head dragged up from the valley between his two large arms and he watched her face for a moment in the darkness. Scarlett could have sworn that she saw his eyes sparkle.

And as soon as the contact began, it ended. Through the daze, she watched him reach for the apple jar and scoot back onto his knees. She bit her lip. He truly was a beautiful sight.

"Spread your legs," he said gruffly. Shaking her head to rid the confusion, she blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"What?"

The fingers that had just left her aching skin flicked in the dull light of the room and loosened the jar's top with a loud pop. "You heard me."

She hesitated, not liking where this situation was going. _God's nightgown! _she thought, _Why can't he let me lay here and get it over with? It's embarrassing enough with him standing over me with that look in his eyes. Like he's about to eat me al…Oh!_

Suddenly pulled from her reverie by two hands forcing her knees apart, Scarlett opened her mouth in protest but stopped short at the calculating look that greeted her. It was the exact same look she gave the ledgers at Frank's store…that studious, heavy gaze of both interest and dismay. Why it should be on Rhett's face now was a mystery to her, but it was soon pushed to the back of her mind when his head leaned forward to stare between her thighs as intently as if she were aflame.

And indeed she was. A flush had fallen over her face and despite her certain lack of clothing, she could feel the intolerable heat of the room overwhelm her. She wished she had something - _anything _- to take off. It was absolutely _unbearable_ and that cad simply _wouldn't _stop staring.

"Do you mind, Rhett Butler?" she said with a voice too composed for her liking, "I do have other places to be, you know."

The quick quip that she expected never came. Instead, he glanced up at her with the largest, vulnerable look that she had ever seen before smirking lightly and tipping the jar just so. Her lips parted and her eyes flickered about the room. Everything had turned to ice.

A pool of apple sweat and cinnamon seeped between her legs and she started when her husband's head dipped and his coarse tongue dove into the sheets just below her dark, fruit-spattered curls. She breathed deeply, watching him grip her knees hard enough to leave a bruise and moving his dark head further toward his goal. Greedily nibbling on an apple slice which had fallen precariously close to her entrance, Rhett sucked in a much-needed bit of air before letting his lips caress the inside of her thigh. The only thought that made it into her mind was how insanely ticklish his mustache made her.

Without warning, he let the tip of his tongue dart toward the bottom of her slit and she jumped. Sliding his fingers up toward her protruding hips, he held her soundly as he danced within her softness and the apples' wetness. Catching a rather large slice between his teeth, he let the substance melt into his mouth while nudging her with the bridge of his nose. She felt as though she would go insane. Her arms that had hung useless at her sides flew outward of their own accord and the next thing she knew was the soft feel of his hair between her fingers. He didn't seem to mind, however, and, upon finishing his small treat, turned his attention to the woman gaping open before him.

As if beckoned by some frantic urge, he swiped the entire length of his tongue along her. He cursed himself lightly when he felt his muscles flex madly at her bucking response. Knowing his attentions were welcome seemed to light a fire within him and he dug into her like a man half-starved. He kissed and he bit…let one hand fall from her hip and touch her intimately while her hands demanded his lips. He obeyed only too readily. Finding her bud of pleasure, he attacked it with no sense of gentility. Rhett had been with too many women to ignore the tense that had suddenly swept upon her.

Scarlett, meanwhile, wondered absently why her jaws refused to work. Her mouth was as feeble and worthless as a fish's, her throat only aiding to humiliate her with treacherous moans and murmurs of need…a need for something so basic and so complex that Scarlett could hardly fathom what it could mean. A tight knot had formed in the very pit of her stomach, and she wished more than anything that Rhett would just _do _something.

"Rhett…" she rasped lightly, unsure if he could even hear her above the incessant pounding. It may have only been in her ears, but she was absolutely certain that it was audible throughout all of Atlanta. "Rhett…please…please…don't…please…_damnit, Rhett, do something_!"

Not able to ignore his beloved's pleas, he kissed her soundly but once more, letting his knees propel him forward to rise to her face. He searched her eyes for something as timeless as it was nameless and, unable to fully find it and unwilling to care, he closed the space between his glistening lips and her shaking mouth…between her trickling opening and his burgeoning need.

She screamed…literally _screamed_…into his roaming mouth. Frank's ghostly memory faded…Wade and Ella seemed years away…the war was gone. All that she knew, all she could feel was Rhett's rhythmic rocking and her own thrusting urgency meeting him dip for dip. The smell of fresh cinnamon and something that both horrified and excited her wafted from his lips and she gingerly bit his bottom lip. He growled into the apex of her shoulder and scraped his teeth along her neck until he reached her ear. She could hear him mumbling without words…could hear the slapping of skin upon skin…could hear the beating of his heart upon her own as readily as she could feel his sweaty chest slip up and down upon her. Some distant part of her brain shouted when his hand grasped her buttocks and heaved a leg to his side, but she ignored it…ignored him…couldn't ignore that final, monumental jerk of his hips.

"Oh my…oh my God! Ahhh…Ah…R-Rhe…RHETT!"

The room burst into lights. Her body shook with a maddening compulsion that drove him to the brink and welcomed him into her bliss. They melded into one being, their voices crying out into the night until the groans became dragging pants and the frenzied motions became the smallest of pushes. Breath entered the silence and nestled itself into the firelight until sleep took reign over the pair of newlyweds.


	2. Night 1

The green eyes that femininely fluttered open hours later were languid and unable to focus on any one object. Night had settled over Atlanta's National Hotel and the room was absolutely dark save for a blaring light falling rudely in through the window from the opposite wall. The dimmest ghost of the moonlight fell on her face and she squinted to find some type of clarity.

_Since when is the moon so warm? _Scarlett wondered, marveling at the heat practically radiating from her body.

_From our bodies._

The loose connections began to form. The smoldering kisses…the gentle, yet frenzied touches…the thrusting of her hips against his…

The apples.

She blushed when her legs slipped as she shifted in the bed. Her entire body felt sticky and hot and although it was uncomfortable, she couldn't help but snuggle further into the heavy covers. A rough knee was settled in the small of her back and she glanced back at the intimidating form of Rhett Butler, his sharp features shrouded in the night. When he gargled in his sleep and hunched his body to get closer to her, she naturally leaned back into his arms. Heat blared at her neck when he sighed and murmured something beside her ear. She discarded it as inaudible breathings of the night although deep down in her soul the words reverberated like thunder.

"Are you awake, Rhett?" she whispered against his cheek. From the corner of her eye, she spotted his lips vibrating softly as he exhaled. The smell of his breath wafted into her face and her nose shrugged. She glared at him while slowly pulling her sticky limbs away from his body. "Good morning to you too."

He merely grunted in response.

When her back was at last pried from his chest, she managed to wiggle her way to her feet with a single backward glance to the sleeping figure clutching the sheets. She watched his eyebrows droop in confusion as his fingers felt the linen for her missing body. The bed creaked suddenly and he was laying his dark head upon her pillow. His face was caught in the single light for but a second and that was all Scarlett needed to see tears rolling down his flawless cheeks. She blinked. The tears were still there. Leaning in close to her husband's face, she faintly traced the damp lines to assure herself that she was not dreaming. He groaned as if he'd been shot in the gut.

"No…not here…she's not here…never _here_."

His face rubbed itself into her pillow and she absently lifted her hand to clutch it against her bosom. A strange mixture of sympathy and disgust swarmed in her abdomen. Rhett was strong, capable, manly…not…well, not _this_. _And I'm shaking as if Sherman himself were running after me with a bayonet!_ She took a small step toward the window as if to distance herself from the emotional naked man in the bed. His breath was coming in hitches, choking him and sending his handsome face to find solace where she should have slept. Intangible words were still being muttered in her battered pillow and his shoulders still shook until his entire body seemed to be crumpling against whatever terrible horror of the night he was facing.

And she was scared silly.

She blessed the dark that cloaked her whilst she donned her chemise and hastily threw a honey-colored wrapper across her shoulders. Fumbling with the scarlet sash about her waist, she watched for any sign of Rhett awakening. Yet all her eyes could make out was his trembling figure which looked demonically heavenly at the present moment. Her forgotten sheets were bunched low about his hips and did nothing to cover his rather rounded bum. _Mother…oh, mother…you're probably spinning like a hurricane in your grave._

And though she had so recently been reassured that hell had no hold over her immortal soul, Scarlett couldn't help but snap her head to the side and duck her chin into the throat of her wrapper demurely. It wasn't proper for a woman to look so brazenly upon her husband's…assets, regardless if she was his wife or not. But the fact that she was filled with neither shame nor regret harmed her disposition far greater than any ghost or grizzly flames of a faraway afterlife ever could. She was supposed to be ashamed and instead she felt the need to giggle girlishly and take just one more peek. He was so devilishly handsome, after all, and how would Ashley ever know?

Her heart, which up to that moment had been burning with an emotion that she would not fully identify for years to come, stopped cold in her chest. When had those treacherous fingers of hers touched Rhett Butler instead of her beloved Ashley? When had years of idolizing her golden-headed god fallen to hours of indulgence with…well, she still didn't know exactly what to call him just yet. Glancing towards the bed, she was thankful to see that he was now sleeping soundlessly in the middle of the vast sheets. The fire in her heart, however, had burned out. She carefully tiptoed to the window and looked out on Atlanta with dark emerald eyes fastened where she believed the Wilkes's home to be. For the first time between three marriages and countless beaux, Scarlett O'Hara felt that she had betrayed her love for Ashley. Why this was so she could not work out in her befuddled mind, but the gnawing feeling of shame churned and ate at her insides like a worm.

Steadying a hand upon a wall, she absently watched her breath hit the window. _I mustn't think of these things now. It's all so confusing. But…why I bet it was just the way Rhett has with women. He told me I would have fun and I did. Oh, God curse me so for thinking such things! But I suppose if God cares enough to snoop down on me in such moments as those he can't exactly be as holy as he's proclaimed. I'll just have to figure out a way to convince Rhett that last night was nothing…it was normal…that I could do it again without the slightest bit of a care._ _If only my stomach would stop aching at the thought of it all and my hands would stop sweating like a field hand's._

Though Scarlett's mind bounded from one thought to another, she could hardly pinpoint any one for more than a moment, and so, just mere moments after arriving to the window, she stopped thinking and pushed herself to enjoy the quiet serenity of the night. She stood arrested in such a position until a smooth crack from behind her startled her into awareness.

"Scarlett? What are you doing up, my little hellcat?" Rhett's voice called from the bed.

Any memory of his former weakness dissipated as she approached the bed with challenging eyes staring up at his swarthy face. "That's Mrs. Butler to you."

"Really?" he chuckled, holding the sheets back and calmly appreciating the glow which highlighted her wrapper as it hit the floor. "If you were trying to distract me from my question, my dear, you've certainly found the right avenue."

She grinned as she snuggled near to him and wrapped her fingers in the thick of the black curls dressing his exposed chest. He reminded her vaguely of a panther; he was dark and sweeping, larger than life and deadly to boot. Everything about him demanded dominance, and she realized with a small turn of her lips that any interaction between herself and Rhett would belong to him and him alone. The realization hit her as swiftly and painfully as a train and she glared at him for a moment before realizing that she had no real reason to be angry with him. "I was just thinking."

"I thought I smelt something burning," he said, dragging the covers back over his body and resting his head on his own pillow. Her small epiphany had not gone unnoticed by him and she noted how his skin suddenly turned cold to her touch.

"Oh, Rhett, don't be so nasty! I was thinking about our honeymoon."

"At last we are of the same mind. Don't look up at me so, Scarlett, I've already made up my mind about where we're going."

"Really? Where?" she asked, fruitlessly hiding the excitement in her voice.

"Are all women such sharks when a man mentions a honeymoon? Don't go getting your feathers in a ruffle now, my sweet chicken hen…I'm actually very glad you're looking forward to it so, being that we're wed on paper and pleasantries. And I was genuinely hoping to sooth a curiosity of mine."

"Of course I'm looking forward to my own honeymoon, Rhett. Now please tell me where we're going."

"Very well…I dare say I would have preferred to have surprised you on the train tomorrow morning, but this will do just as well. How do you feel about New Orleans?"

"How lovely, Rhett! I'd like that!"

"Would you, my dear?" he asked, his eyes brimming with amusement, "Yes, I think you really would. And I imagine I could reach my goal by the end of it all."

"Goal? What goal? Whatever in the world are you running on about, Rhett?"

Fingers pulled her chin up and she was greeted by the most wide, mischievous eyes she had ever known. She was being drawn back to the day that he proposed, to when his eyes encompassed the earth and became the room and everything within it. "Why, _Mrs. Butler_, I thought after our beautiful union earlier you would have guessed. My dear, for years I have been waiting to hold you…to own you…no, don't speak, darling…Scarlett Butler, I'm making you this promise: By the end of our honeymoon, I will have eaten you alive. And just remember, honey," he said with a wicked smirk, "I'm a growing boy."

Her gasp never reached her lips. His hungry mouth fell upon hers with an insatiable appetite that left her breathless. Searing lips demanded her attention and all she knew was the niche in the world of Rhett's pleasures that their mouths had created. She choked in horror when his tongue slid easily along her teeth. His moan at the apple still clinging to her teeth made her feel vulgarly alive. Ashley's drowsy face didn't stand a chance against the moon of Rhett's head against the sky that was Scarlett O'Hara. Stars burst behind her eyelids. When her own fingers began lifting her chemise, the screaming rejection in her heart withered into nothing more than a weak foreground to her husband's simple, stuttered, and yet still succumbing mantra.

_"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."_

And this was just the beginning.


End file.
